


The Witcher of Willowhain

by Bardling



Series: Itheus of Willowhain [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Cat School (The Witcher), Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Itheus kills a pedophile, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kaer Morhen, Kinda, M/M, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Mild Gore, Multi, Murder, Novigrad (The Witcher), Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Lambert (The Witcher), Protective Vesemir (The Witcher), Slow Burn, Sorcerers, The Witcher Lore, Trans Male Character, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardling/pseuds/Bardling
Summary: Itheus has set out to find his destiny. And that's where his story begins; the night he leaves behind his school, the Cats, and everything he's ever known. With nothing but his swords, his magic, a pack, and his horse named Ivy, the boy is alone on the vast Continent. Has he bitten off more than he can chew, or is the Witcher life the one he was meant to live?Join Itheus on his path of monster killing, redemption, risk, and perhaps even friendship.What could go wrong when Itheus and the White Wolf are destined to cross paths... and swords?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Original Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Itheus of Willowhain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080650
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7





	1. Leaving the Nest

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first ever fanfic in this fandom, but I'm super excited to share it with you! I've done (and will continue to do) tons of research on the lore, characters, and history of The Witcher universe to make this as close to canon as a fic can get. If you find any discrepancies in the story, feel free to comment and I'll edit as needed! Comments make my little writer heart smile :) I know I tagged as slow burn, but it's really not all that slow. It's hard to explain, but you'll see!
> 
> This will be a multi-chaptered work.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

1235  
Blood, smoke, pine, buttercups and a hint of dirt are the scents that jolt Itheus out of a deep sleep. The whisperings of a faint voice reverberate in his head like a bad siren’s song, “Your destiny is not here.” The voice says one more time before it fades away, along with the smells that once enshrouded his senses. Itheus sits up in his bed and looks around the caravan. It’s the middle of the night and everyone is still asleep, even Brehen who is usually as nocturnal as he is cruel. Being careful not to wake anyone, Itheus quickly dresses in his armor, gathers his bag and weapons, then exits the caravan. He pulls the black hood of his jacket up and takes one last look at the Dyn Marv Caravan, the place that has been his home for the last six years, then unties a horse from its post and sets off down the dirt path.

He knows he should have left a note at the very least so they don’t assume he’s been abducted or killed, but he also knows it’s in his best interest to leave everything he once knew behind. “My destiny is not here.” He repeats aloud, mostly to convince himself to keep going and not turn around. The young nomad doesn’t know where he is going, all he knows is that he’ll stop in the first town he stumbles upon and go from there. He has enough coin to stay at an inn for at least a night or two, and if he’s lucky he might be able to take a contract to cover everything else. He sighs and gives the Friesian horse he has mounted a little pat. “So, you have a name?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. 

The horse just chuffs in response

. “No? Well then, I’m naming you Ivy. Do you like Ivy?” Itheus muses, patting the horse again. He’s answered by another chuff.

“Very well then, nice to meet you Ivy.” He says with a chuckle.

He sighs a few moments later. “What has my life come to? I’m alone, on the road, and talking to a horse. I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back, the magic in my veins, and the training under my belt. I’m leaving behind almost everyone I’ve ever known and for what? Because some voice in my dreams told me to go find my ‘destiny’? What a load of shit.” Itheus rambles to nothing in particular, but is met with a strong huff from Ivy.

“I am not throwing a pity party, thank you very much! My life has been uprooted and now I’m venturing to some random city in hopes that by some miracle, they’ll pay me to kill some village nuisance they might have. And that’s if they don’t see my medallion and immediately put my head on a damn spike. Actually that reminds me…” Itheus pauses and removes his medallion from his neck, then holds it as his fingers illuminate and the shape of the medallion changes to that of the Wolf. “There, no need to worry about the Cat’s reputation now.” He says quietly to himself.

The two continue on for several hours until the sun starts to rise and they see a decent sized town not too far in the distance. Itheus lets out a sigh of relief, in more need of a rest than he is willing to admit. After a while, Itheus and Ivy arrive upon the cobblestone path of the town. He hops off of Ivy and walks her by her lead, searching for the local inn… or tavern. ‘Yeah, a tavern would suffice too.’ Itheus thinks to himself.

With the sun quickly rising, the merchants and townspeople are starting to stir and mill about. They don’t really seem to notice him and if they do, they pay him no mind. That is, until he’s stopped by a large man with long ginger hair and a full beard to match. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He asks Itheus, towering over the young man’s slight frame. 

“I’m from a lot of places, but I can’t say I’m from here.” He answers, his hand gripping Ivy’s lead tighter out of reflex while he removes his hood with the other.

“That so? Well, I can tell y’ve been on the road a while. Y’look tired, kid. I was just on my way to open my tavern for the day and I’ve got a room open. Follow me and I’ll show you.”

“Oh- wow, well thank you. I uh, I don’t have a lot of coin, but I’ll pay you what I can.” Itheus says gratefully.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ll give you a heavy discount on the inn. Pay for yer stay and the food is on us.” The man says before walking in the direction of his tavern.

“I- I don’t know how to thank you, sir. Wait, I don’t even know your name!” Itheus calls out as he jogs to catch up to the man who is already halfway down the path. 

“A simple thank you will suffice… and maybe a deal later.” The man says the first part with a chuckle, but the second half is barely a mumble. Itheus hears him clear as day, having his enhanced hearing to thank for that. “Everyone ‘round here just calls me Joel. You got a name?” he asks, turning to glance at Itheus.

The comment strikes Itheus as odd, but he doesn’t think too much about it. “Well thank you, Joel.” He says with a smile. “And my name is Itheus.” He answers.

“Well Itheus, it’s good t’have you. We don’t get many visitors in these parts.” Joel says kindly, then stops and turns to unlock the tavern door. “After you.” he says to Itheus once the door is open. 

‘It got one of my cows again, left nothin’ but the head! It’s gettin’ unsafe for the kids out there.’ Itheus picks up a conversation a few buildings over and hums. Maybe lady luck is on his side after all. “Right, thank you.” he says, entering the tavern and looking around. It’s about what you would expect from a local bar in the spring. The walls and archways are adorned with bundles of flowers and leaves, the wooden tables and chairs are simple and polished to a shine, and the whole room smells of a slight orange citrus. 

“So uh, I heard you may have a cattle problem?” Itheus asks as he takes a seat at the bar, watching Joel set up the bar for the day. 

“More like a monster eating our cattle problem.” Joel says with a huff. “Lotsa folks around here think it’s just a bear… but what bear do y’know that leaves just the head and takes the eyes?” He asks as he sets the glasses up behind him. 

“I don’t know any bear that would do that. They’re more likely to tear the thing to shreds and leave a mutilated carcass behind than anything.” Itheus says, his brow furrowed as he thinks.

“Exactly what I said. So, Itheus… you want to take a contract on that monster?” Joel asks, turning to face the young man who has a slightly awestruck expression.

“I- how did you… I mean yes, but how did you know?” He asks, blinking a few times in confusion.

“I know a Witcher medallion when I see one.” Joel says, gesturing to the wolf resting on Itheus’ chest. “And no normal man has eyes like that.” He says, making eye contact with Itheus.

It’s true, no human has eyes like he does. His right eye is a dead giveaway, being the same striking golden amber hue as every other Witcher. But the peculiarity doesn’t stop there, his left eye is a stark contrast -- bright emerald green. His eyes are a unique side effect of his mutations, unlike any known man or Witcher. He’s one of a kind in many senses.

“Ah… you’ve got good observation skills, Joel.” Itheus chuckles, then takes a drink of the ale that was set in front of him. “But yeah, I’ll kill your monster.” He says with a nod.

“Good, good. You kill that monster and bring me its head, then your room is on us. A few of us have pitched in to pay a Witcher, so you’ll get your coin as well. One hundred Ducat.” Joel says while handing Itheus his room key. “Eat, rest up, then go get that damn thing.” He says, then continues setting up.

Not two minutes after Joel stopped talking, a tall woman with dark hair and features comes out and sets a plate full of food down in front of Itheus. Piled on to the plate is potatoes, beans, lamb, bread, and corn. Itheus eats his food quickly out of both habit and hunger. Back with the caravan, he never knew how long he had to eat before they were being ambushed or were forced back onto the road. 

“Gods, kid. You eat like y’ve never eaten before!” The woman says, her red and creme dirndl swishing as she moves from table to table, straightening chairs and organizing the centerpieces. “Joel, don’t you think this kid is a bit young… and small to be a Witcher?” the woman asks with no malcontent in her voice. 

“Levia my dear, leave the poor boy alone. He has the eyes, he has the medallion, he has the swords. That’s more than enough for me.” Joel shouts at Levia from behind the bar. 

“No, no. Skepticism is allowed, and expected when I look the way I do. I’ll humor her.” Itheus says with a cocky smirk, letting a bit of his hubris show. His words catch Levia’s attention and make her turn to face him. He stands and leans against the bar, his hand outstretched and palm facing up. A ball of yellow energy takes form in his hand which he then tosses up, illuminating the tavern’s ceiling in sunshine and clouds. Levia and Joel look up with a mix of amazement and surprise. “A gift from me to you. To liven the place up just a bit more.” Itheus says with a chuckle before adding, “Oh, and Levia? Congrats, you’re having a boy.” 

***

Itheus awakes in his rented bed just a few hours before dusk, quickly dressing in his armor again before sheathing his freshly oiled weapons and holstering them in their proper places. ‘Well, I’ve got a few hours to track this thing down before it gets dark.’ He thinks to himself before exiting the room and heading towards the stables to retrieve Ivy. Once mounted, he sniffs the air and takes off to find the farmland that the smell belongs to. Grass, soil, manure, blood, and the putrid smell of a monster. Hard to miss. 

It takes Itheus under an hour to reach the source of the stagnant smell, even more prominent now that he’s at the farmland at the edge of the woods. He climbs off of Ivy and secures her lead around a thin tree, giving the knot a firm tug for safe measure. He closes his eyes and smells the air one more, trying to discern between the smells. His brows furrow once he picks it up. “Hmm. So it’s a ghoul.” He mutters under his breath. It doesn’t take him long after trailing the scent of the ghoul to find the monster’s footprints in the mud, leading straight from the woods to the fence of the cattle pen. Itheus is stirred from his concentration by a loud crack from the woods behind him, to which his head quickly snaps in the direction of.

Drawing his silver sword, the young Witcher quietly treks towards the sound of the monster. The sight he walks upon is gruesome, the poor farmer’s arms have been severed. His bones are snapped in two and a plump, fleshy, veiny creature is eating the marrow from the dead man’s forearm. The thing is huge, far bigger than any ghoul Itheus has ever heard about. It has three bony combs on its head and short, thick claws that are dripping with blood and flesh. “Fuck.” Itheus grumbles, igniting a ball of fire in his palm. “Not a ghoul. A goddamn graveir.” It’s a good thing he left when he did, because neither ghouls nor graveirs are active when the sun is out.

The light from Itheus’ flame alerts the graveir, causing it to give a tree-shaking screech and come stomping towards him, a starving rage in its low-set eyes. “Oh no you don’t, you disgusting bastard!” Itheus growls before jumping out of the way of the graveir’s attack. The beast turns around and gives another shrill screech, but this time does not have time to rush Itheus before it’s blasted square in the chest by a bolt of fire. The graveir lets out a pained yell as its stone-like skin is burnt. Itheus charges at it and hits it with another bolt before flinging himself onto its shoulders with a quick jump and swing of his legs. While the creature is dazed from the fire, the young Witcher slices its head clean off with his silver sword. He jumps from the graveir’s shoulders before the bastard’s disgusting body even hits the ground. 

Itheus makes his way back to Ivy with the monster’s head in hand, ignoring the black sludge-like blood it drips as he walks. Once he’s back, he takes a spare linen sheet from his pack and wraps the head in it before securing it with a thin rope and attaching it to Ivy’s saddle bag. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll be back.” He says to the mare before walking back into the woods. He finds the corpse of the farmer once more and sighs.

“May marw neén ess deireádh.” He says quietly in Elder as he uses two fingers to close the man’s eyelids. Itheus ignites a flame in his palm and burns what is left of the body, watching as it’s engulfed in a white flame before fading into ascending smoke.

He leaves once the flame is completely extinguished, riding Ivy back into town and to the tavern. He dismounts and unties the severed head from the bag, carrying it by one of the combs. ‘Thank gods I killed this thing when I did, otherwise it would have massacred this whole town in no time.’ Itheus thinks to himself as he approaches the door of the inn. He enters and goes straight for the bar, setting the head down none too gently. Luckily, there aren’t many patrons due to the late hour. The ones that are there only give him disgusted looks, but say nothing. “The head you asked for.” He says to Joel, whose back is currently to him.

Joel turns around and is met with a grueling sight. The young Witcher with his raven hair matted by sweat and blood, pale white skin splattered with both the former and the later as well as dirt, presenting the severed head of a monster he’s never heard of. “Well I’ll be damned. That’s no bear.” Joel says, blinking in amazement. 

“No. It’s not.” Itheus says blandly, getting increasingly irritated by the blood drying on his skin and in his hair. “I was promised coin.” He says, ready to bathe and meditate before turning in for the night. 

“Yes, yes of course.” Joel says with a smile, then hurries to a room off the side of the bar before returning with a coin bag. “Levia and I chipped in 50 extra Ducats since you were so quick at killing the hellish beast.” He says as he puts the bag in Itheus’ outstretched hand.

“I thank you kindly. Aé wish aine aen taedh.” Itheus says as he heads to his room for the night -- or what’s left of it, anyway. When his legs hit the bed, he realizes he doesn’t even remember taking his bath. His hair and skin are still damp, so he knows he did… he’s just so exhausted that his body took him through the motions with little influence from his brain.

For that reason, he decides to skip his meditation entirely. A very faint voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Guxart, his old mentor, tells him the importance of routine meditation. But the Witcher’s eyelids are already getting heavy with sleep and he’s got a long day of travelling tomorrow, so sleep ends up winning the battle for Itheus’ decision.

For the first time in his life, he sleeps without having any plan for the following day. But just like many nights, his sleep is filled with whispers of his destiny and dreams of the future. If only he knew what it all meant. 

‘Soon.’ A voice whispers as he falls into a deep slumber.


	2. The Horror and the Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Welcome to chapter two :) This new installment is packed full of twists, turns, emotions, and a visit from a very special guest!   
> I do hope you enjoy! 
> 
> As always, comments are very appreciated and constructive criticism is welcomed <3

Several years have passed since Itheus took his first contract in that small, unassuming town. He’s spent years on the Path in search of his destiny, going town to town in search of jobs. Years of fighting, killing monsters, running from his past, and he doesn’t look a day older than when he left. 

He’s garnered a reputation for himself as the Witcher of Willowhain, a young man of great charm and even greater power with eyes that are recognized around the Continent as both a bad omen and a saving grace. He’s as skilled with his tongue as he is with his swords, which men from all over can attest to. Where he succeeds in killing monsters, he’s almost certain to succeed in making his way into men’s beds… regardless of marital status. 

Years of monster hunting brings many things, but unfortunately a clue to this mysterious ‘destiny’ of his is not one of them. He hasn’t discovered a damn thing. Now, his coin purse is feeling uncomfortably light and he can’t seem to uncover anything regarding his future. His hopes are low, and he’s having second thoughts about leaving the Caravan, which seems to happen more frequently as the years progress. 

***  
Oxenfurt in the summertime is a beautiful sight, the streets are bustling with university students and people of all ages alike, the skies are clear, the sounds are merry, and the upper-class men with a flow of coin are plentiful. Itheus is here on an odd request from someone he met on the last contract he took where a Bruxa was terrorizing a town and leaving dozens of women widowed. Luckily for the people of Vizima, Itheus is not a man easily swayed by the persuasions of beautiful women- or women at all. 

“Find the headmaster of the university and he will have a job ready for you. It’s in your best interest to not ask too many questions. The higher ups in Oxenfurt are… a bit high strung lately.” The stranger from Vizima had said to him before practically vanishing. With such cryptic instructions, Itheus wouldn’t doubt that this person is someone capable of actually vanishing.

Never thought I’d be going into a school again. Itheus thinks to himself as he opens the heavy wooden doors and sets off down the hallway, paying little attention to the students rushing past him to finally enjoy the freedom of summer. He peeks into rooms with open doors in search of a man who looks like the description he was given of the headmaster, but reaches the end of the first floor with no luck. He quickly climbs the flight of stairs to the second floor and it’s there that something catches his eye, or more accurately, his ear and nose. 

A young man who is clearly no older than Itheus looks himself is flitting around the corridor plucking the strings of a lute as he serenades the last of the students gathering their things. His voice is melodic, a soothing tenor to Itheus’s sensitive ears. The delightful scents of juniper, sage, linseed oil, and a multitude of flowers fill his nose and filter into his brain. He’s so enamoured by the man that he’s only brought back into reality when his body knocks into him. 

“Woah! Sorry about that, I didn’t see you there.” The man says, looking down at Itheus with a boyish grin. 

Everything warps when the singing man bumps into him and their shoulders touch. Itheus’s vision goes black and a familiar voice rings in his ears. ‘You are on the right path. You will meet again.’ It says, the voice from so many dreams before. The voice that has foretold his destiny for a decade now. 

The voice fades and his vision returns back to normal as the young man puts his hand on Itheus’s shoulder. “Say, are you new? I don’t recall seeing someone as fair as yourself around here before.” He says with a curious tilt of his head.

Itheus looks up at the singing man’s face for the first time and makes eye contact with him. His pleasant aroma is even stronger now that they’re face to face and for a moment, his breath is stolen. The man has the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes that Itheus has ever seen. Quickly, he remembers that he needs to respond. Wait, did he just call me ‘fair’? “Oh um, I’m not a student. But I am in search of the headmaster.” Itheus says, trying not to think about the comment. 

“The old dolt? Not sure why anyone would want that gross bastard, but suit yourself. I can show you to his office if you’d like. I’ve been told I’m a lovely escort.” He says with a smirk and a wink, securing his lute strap on his shoulder. “Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Julian, but I let the pretty ones like yourself call me Jaskier.” He says charmingly. 

Itheus, to his credit, does not blush from the blatant flirting this gorgeous man is laying on him. He smiles back when he offers to show him to the headmaster’s office, making his job just that much easier. “I’d appreciate that a lot, actually. Thank you.” He says, his smile growing just slightly. Oh, how he wishes he were in this town for anything else. Itheus would love to lay his charms on this lovely man. He stops dead in his mental tracks when Jaskier tells Itheus his name. “Buttercup.” He says, but not as quietly as he had hoped.

Jaskier gives a lively laugh and turns to start walking. “Not many people resort to calling me pet names so soon after meeting me, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.” He looks Itheus up and down, biting his lower lip. “Not that I’m complaining in the slightest.” He says in a slightly lower tone. Itheus does blush at this, and looks down out of slight embarrassment but follows Jaskier as they walk towards the office.

“No- I uh, I didn’t mean it like that. Not that you’re unattractive or anything, because gods you definitely are. But I meant that your name, Jaskier, means Buttercup.” Itheus says, trying to play it even the slightest bit cool. Surely this can’t be a coincidence now. It all started with the smell of buttercups, now the voice and a man by the same name? Fucking destiny. Itheus thinks to himself, then says “My name is Itheus, by the way.”

Jaskier seems almost amused by Itheus’s flustered state. “Don’t worry, I’m just playing with you. You’re so pretty and fair skinned that I just had to see if I could make you blush. Not many people know the meaning of my name, so color me impressed.” He says, winking at the shorter man.

“Itheus… I’ve never heard that name before. I like it. It’s unique, just like those stunning eyes of yours.” Jaskier muses, admiring the amber and emerald shades. 

Itheus blushes a darker shade of pink as Jaskier calls him pretty yet again, complimenting his eyes in the process. It’s the first time anyone has ever admired his mutation. “Thank you, I chose it myself.” He says, then chuckles softly. It’s true, he did choose it himself. Along with most of his physical appearance -- aside from his eyes, scars, and the white streak in his hair.

“I know a lot of things that many people don’t know. And the same can be said about your eyes, Jaskier. I’ve never seen such a beautiful shade of blue.” He says, his tongue darting out to wet his pink lips as he finally lays on his charm. He notices as Jaskier’s eyes flick down to look at his lips. 

Jaskier stops walking as they finally reach the end of another corridor. “It’s been lovely walking with you, but I’m afraid we’ve reached our destination.” He says, gesturing to the door. “But if you’ve got some spare time after you finish your business here… you can find me in the park across from the tavern, o fair Itheus.” Jaskier says smoothly, making no effort to hide what he’s alluding to. Itheus may just take him up on the offer if he has time. 

“You’ve been lovely company, Jaskier. If I have time before I leave Oxenfurt, I’ll make sure to pay you a visit.” Itheus says, giving Jaskier a wink before turning away. “Aen yn tearth.” He says once he’s facing the door. Jaskier has already turned and started skipping back down the hallway, but he still hears Itheus’s words.

“Mire taedh!” Jaskier shouts before starting back in on his lute with a different tune. For a moment, Itheus is taken aback by the fact that Jaskier not only understands Elder, but speaks it too. Focus. He scolds himself. You’re not here to fool around with school boys.

***  
“No. Absolutely not.” Itheus says firmly with a clenched jaw. 

“Why not? We’re paying you! That’s what you Witchers do, right? You take contracts and kill people for money.” The headmaster exclaims, agitated by the young man’s refusal.

“We kill monsters, not people. What you’re asking me to do is the work of an assassin, not a Witcher. I don’t take contracts on humans.” Itheus says, glowering at the man in front of him.

“Are you sure about that? I thought the Cats were as murderous as they are flexible. Surely it’s not that big of a deal to you.” He says mockingly, his nasally laugh grating Itheus’s ears.

Itheus growls and slams his hands down on the desk, leaning over the headmaster. “Who told you that I’m a Cat?” he asks, his eyes glowing red with anger. His school is information he doesn’t share with anyone, not since people he thought were his brothers slaughtered a bunch of innocent people and ruined the Cat’s name. So if anyone knows, it’s because someone he used to know told them or someone got into his head without him knowing.

The headmaster’s eyes widen in fear as he shoves his chair back to avoid the young Witcher’s wrath. “Woah, woah. Calm down there. I don’t remember who told me, okay? It was some woman in a cloak, that’s all I remember. She told me that a young Witcher from the Cat school would be in Oxenfurt looking for a job and that he might be willing to take a contract from me.” He says hurriedly, worrying that Itheus might lose his patience. 

“Here, I’ll make you a deal. You don’t have to kill anyone. Just scare him into not saying anything and we’ll pay you an extra third of the price. He has information about me that I can’t risk getting out. I could lose my job, or worse.” The headmaster says, eyes pleading. 

“Fine.” Itheus growls before sitting down, his eyes returning to their normal state. “But there will be no killing and I will not so much as physically harm anyone. Understand?” Itheus asks, twirling his dagger between his fingers.

“Understood.” The headmaster says, watching the dagger before swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. I’ll be taking payment upfront for this scare tactic of yours.” Itheus says, leaving no room for argument. “And give me the location for whoever this guy is, while you’re at it.” he adds with a glare. The headmaster sighs but is compliant, handing Itheus a pouch full of coins as well as a piece of paper.

Itheus takes the items and puts them in his bag, then leaves without another word. Rather than taking the stairs one by one, he opts to slide down the bannister instead. It’s faster, more efficient, and hell… Itheus thinks it’s fun. He’s allowed fun every once and a while.

Once he’s out of the school, Itheus takes the paper from his bag and reads it over. “The other side of Oxenfurt? Fucking hell, so much for stopping by the park.” He grumbles, looking across the way at the grassy area. 

“Till we meet again, Jaskier.” He sighs, then starts walking.

***  
Itheus gets distracted by the multitude of shops for a few hours, deciding to buy new clothes and supplies with the money he’s obtained. He buys better food for Ivy as well, including a bag of apples and sugar cubes. He spoils his horse, sue him.

He leaves the shops and goes to complete his contract once the sun starts to set, ultimately deciding that he’s more intimidating in the dark. And with darkness comes a lower chance of being recognized. He thinks to himself.

He scopes out the area outside the man’s house first, checking for anyone else who might be around. The last thing he wants is a bystander to see and run off to tell the rest of the town. He finds no one outside so he gets closer, looking into the windows to see if there’s anyone inside. All he sees is a blonde young woman cleaning up a table from what he assumes was dinner. He hears a door open and quickly casts a spell, his form blending into the shadows and out of sight. 

What he sees ignites a flame of rage in his chest. The person who exits the house is not a man, but a boy who is easily no older than thirteen or fourteen. No, he thinks, I’m not taking a contract on a fucking child. That slimy bastard lied to me. Itheus steps out of the shadows and lowers his hood, approaching the boy who seems to be getting water from a well. 

“Dearme.” He whispers once he’s close enough to the boy that he can catch his now-sleeping body. He doesn’t like doing this to people, especially kids, but he knows it’s the easiest way to find out why the headmaster originally wanted him to kill a child. 

He closes his eyes and enters the boy’s mind, sifting through memories and thoughts. His dream state is like nothing Itheus has ever seen before. It’s dark, tumultuous, and in pain. He’s seen children riddled with nightmares, but nothing this bad. It all makes sense when Itheus uncovers the memory.

The reason the headmaster would lose his job is because he has an affinity for deflowering children against their will.

Itheus feels his blood boil. His eyes turn red once more, the skin around them dark with a black shadow. He gently sets the boy on the grass and erases the memory from his mind, taking all the pain and hatred with it. As an apology, he conjures a sweet roll for the boy and leaves it on the edge of the well. He releases the spell and disappears into the night before the boy wakes up and sees him. 

Seconds later, he portals into the headmaster’s bed chamber.

“How did you-” He starts, but his mouth is sealed shut by a spell.

“Shut up.” Itheus growls, his eyes glowing. “You should be more careful of the personal items you leave on your desk. You never know who might steal something and place a tracking spell on you.” He says, letting the paperweight in his hand clatter to the floor. 

“Well, you should have been. It doesn’t matter now, because when I’m done with you there will be nothing left to track.” Itheus continues, giving the man a sadistic grin when he starts trying to scream with a sealed mouth. His grin is wide and toothy, showing off two very sharp fangs. 

“Scream all you want, no one is going to hear you. No one is going to save you. You’re more of a monster than most things I’ve killed.” He says, his voice low and gravelly. The headmaster keeps trying to say something, so Itheus releases the spell.

“Go on, beg for your life.” He practically spits.

“Please! Please, Witcher! Don’t kill me. You said you don’t kill humans. Have mercy, please!” The headmaster begs, trembling with fear. He tries to run for the door, but finds his feet stuck in place. 

Itheus chuckles darkly. “Well you see… The thing with that,” He unsheaths his dagger and places the tip of it right under the man’s sternum. “Is that you are far too vile to be a human.” He pushes the blade forward, enough to pierce the skin but not be fatal. The headmaster lets out a pained wail. 

“Tell me, did you have mercy on that boy you hurt over and over again?” He asks, but seals the man’s mouth once more. “No, you didn’t. You wanted me to murder him.” He pulls the blade back and points it at the man’s groin.

“Let me tell you a secret.” Itheus leans in to the man’s ear and whispers, “Karma’s a fucking bitch.” 

Itheus revels in the ripping noise his dagger makes as it tears through flesh. The noises that fill the room for the next few minutes are nothing short of grotesque, violent, and well deserved. He is relentless in his attack, landing blow after blow with nothing but pure rage and hatred fueling him. He inflicts the most terrible pain imaginable, keeping him clinging to life. “Don’t be consumed by your emotions, Itheus. Your anger, your pain, your sadness… if you feed into it, you will unravel. They will destroy you.” Guxart’s voice rings in his ears, but he ignores it entirely.

Once he finishes, he stands up and looks at the mauled body below him. Unrecognizable.

Itheus leaves him breathing, but sets the room ablaze before he leaves. He knows the man will never make it out. He’ll meet his painful, burning end just as he should. And he’ll never hurt another child again. Itheus thinks to himself as he walks away from the burning building. 

***  
“Witcher.” A deep voice calls out to Itheus as he’s on the outskirts of Oxenfurt, trying to make a quick exit.

Itheus grips his sword and turns around, staying close to Ivy. “Can I help you?” He asks, keeping his distance from the stranger who is robed in a black cloak that covers their entire face. It’s tattered at the ends and clearly quite old.

“I have a job for you.” The stranger says. Itheus can feel the powerful magic radiating from them. Whoever this is, they are much more powerful than he is. “A real job. Not one like the stunt you just pulled here.”

Itheus gives the stranger a distrustful look. “Hmm.” He hums, considering. “What are the details of this job?”

The person in the cloak takes a few steps forward. “There is a monster of great evil wreaking havoc on towns and kingdoms all over the Continent. A butcher, a killer, a bastard. It is big, fast, and incredibly strong. It will try to outsmart you, but you cannot let it. This beast is unmistakable with its pale skin and pure white hair. You will be paid very favorably. Thousands of gold pieces. Anything you could ever want, you will be able to buy.” These words pique the young Witcher’s interest. “So, will you take the job?”

Itheus thinks for a moment. Is this it? Is this what I’ve spent all these years in search of? Is this my destiny? He takes a deep breath and nods. “Does this monster have a name?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at the mysterious figure.

“Geralt of Rivia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Aen yn tearth - Until next time.  
> Mire taedh! - See you!  
> Dearme - Sleep


	3. Petals in a Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit different than the other ones! It was influenced heavily by Fair by The Amazing Devil and Soul Of A Man from Kinky Boots.
> 
> Itheus is lost, broken down, and as alone as he was when he first left the caravan. When every possible thing seems to go wrong, he decides to embrace the thing he's tried so hard to repress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter was a harder one to crank out. I thought about making it longer, but decided that the continuation of his journey would be better in a separate chapter.
> 
> I hope this chapter gives everyone a deeper understanding of our angsty cat boy and some of the things he's been through. There is, of course, much more to come!

“I’ll do it.” Itheus says after a few seconds of silence.

“Good. We shall meet again, Itheus of Willowhain.” The figure says.

Ivy whinnies in impatience. “Calm down, we’ll be going soon.” Itheus says, petting the mare for a few moments to soothe her. “Where can I find this Geralt of Rivia anyway?” He asks, turning to the stranger but only seeing the slightly disrupted dirt in the spot they were standing. 

“Well, I guess destiny will help guide the way. That, or this guy is just full of shit.” Itheus mumbles and sighs, then says, “C’mon, Ivy. Let’s get going, there’s nothing left for us in Oxenfurt.”

With a bit of a hop and a swing of his leg, Itheus mounts Ivy and sets off into the night. The sounds of the forest this night do not ease his troubled mind as they normally do. He is on edge, paranoid as Ivy trots along. Everything is too loud, his armor feels too heavy. He thanks the gods when they finally find a clearing to set camp in for the night. 

Itheus lays out his bedroll after finding a good spot for Ivy, lying down and staring up at the stars. This calms him fractionally, but even then he barely sleeps. He’s restless, and something deep in his bones is telling him that something is wrong. After what feels like an eternity, he falls asleep with the scents of blood, smoke, pine, and buttercups filling his nose.

***  
To say that Itheus has been busy in the five years since taking his contract of grandeur would be an understatement. He set out to find Geralt of Rivia the morning after that fateful night, with very little sleep and even less good spirits. He realized quickly that he’s going on a blind manhunt with no semblance of an idea where this monster could be, and only a modicum of an idea as to what it looks like. 

His search brought him to many towns, hamlets, kingdoms, and villages across the continent where his skills were put to good use (and coin was put in his pockets). But none of these adventures ever brought him any answers. Nothing has brought him closer to finding his monster. Dead end after dead end has left him feeling defeated, broken down, and so tired. Occasionally, he’ll hear that voice in his dreams or get whiffs of blood and pine and dirt and those goddamn buttercups (almost always in hand with each other these days, rarely are the scents ever by themselves.) 

Perhaps the worst of these years isn’t the lack of progression, but the damn near crippling instability he feels within his core. His emotions used to lie below the surface, a steady and routine pounding of waves against a cliff. Serenity was never his style, but at least then he was contained. But now it’s as if those years have eroded the rock, leaving his resolve to crumble, crack until it all comes crashing down.

He supposes it’s his own doing. A week doesn’t go by where he doesn’t think about the sin he committed in Oxenfurt. He’ll never say it out loud, but Guxart was right. He fed into his emotions and now he’s unraveling. Every moment feels as though he’s walking on a tightrope when a hurricane is about to hit. If he had been stronger, if he had more control then he wouldn’t be in this mess. At least that’s what he tells himself, cursing the gods for every part of himself that makes him so volatile. 

With Itheus’s volatility comes more impulsivity. Despite his experience, he’s gotten more sloppy on hunts. His once semi-routine meditation schedule has been abandoned entirely, and he’s lost any sense of self preservation he once had. He charges head first into everything with little to no forethought.

Perhaps that is how he’s gotten himself run out of an amounting number of kingdoms and towns. The only escape Itheus found from his gutting feelings of defeat, turmoil, and failure is sleeping with any attractive man who paid him a fraction of attention. This, as anyone could guess, did not go over well with the wives of some of the married men he bedded. He’s had more than a handful of death threats, and even several murder attempts for sleeping with married men. The most notable of which being when the queen of a northern kingdom ordered her guard to do her bidding.

That altercation is what has earned him a less than favorable reputation and the title of “The Whore of Willowhain” in a cluster of towns. Itheus cares less about the slut shaming than he does about what happened when he was confronted by the queen’s guard. He only meant to disarm them and incapacitate them, he really did.

There were so many men and so much overwhelming commotion around them that he snapped. His vision blurred red and he still doesn’t remember anything but the slew of blood and bodies around him. And the screams, god the screams.

He was run out of that town and ordered never to return. If he did, they’d kill him just as brutally as he killed all those men. Valuing his life over anything that town could have had to offer, Itheus left and didn’t look back. 

He travelled non-stop for almost a week after that, not straying from the beaten dirt path other than to sleep in the woods or to let Ivy graze in a field. It was when they both couldn’t stand the smell of each other that Itheus and Ivy finally stopped to find an inn and get well overdue baths. 

***  
Itheus pays for his room and for the stableboy to wash Ivy with very few words, finding his tolerance for people diminishing more and more each day. Once inside his bedchamber, he strips himself of his armor and clothes, then steps into the bathroom. Normally he would grab a bucket and fill the bathtub by hand, but he’s so tired that he really can’t be assed. “Fuck it. What good is having magic if I don’t use it for everyday tasks?” He asks out loud to no one in particular. 

With a flick of his wrist, the tub fills with water. With a second flick, the water heats up to the point it’s just slightly too hot. Itheus sighs as he sinks down into the tub, enjoying the slight sting of the water. The temperature is sure to leave his pale skin tinted pink with irritation, but the hot water brings him an inkling of relief. 

As Itheus washes his knotted, dirty hair with the rosewater and honey soap that he’s used for years now, he starts thinking about the Cat school. More specifically, he thinks about Guxart. He wonders if Guxart is still alive and what he’d say if he saw Itheus now, broken down and falling apart. 

A ticking time bomb. That’s what some of the Master Witchers used to call him during his trials, too. He’s always felt too much. And right now, he feels everything. 

Itheus scrubs the dirt from his face and body then takes a deep breath and submerges himself all the way under the water, instantly calming as the water surrounds his head and fills his ears. The only sound he can hear is the resonant reverberation of the bath water, much like the ambient noise of a seashell. 

He needs to contain his emotions and fast, because his anxiety is making his entire room shake. 

He doesn’t know how long he held himself underwater, but by the time he emerges, the water is room temperature. It’s a method he’s used for as long as he can remember, long before he ever became a Witcher. Any time things became too much, or too loud, or too overstimulating in general, Itheus would submerge himself in the still water of a tub or lake. 

‘Meditation is one of a Witcher’s best tools. For those with enhancements, it may be one of the only things keeping you tethered to sanity.’ Itheus hears Guxart’s voice in his head and gives a sigh of defeat. Once again, the old man is right. He makes a noise of discomfort as he gets out of the tub, the water far too cold for his liking. 

He gets dressed in his regular black pants and a loose black linen shirt, leaving the front untied. He takes one of his leather ties and puts his hair back into a loose ponytail, although some of the strands still aren’t long enough to stay up. Itheus sits cross legged on the bed and closes his eyes, resting his hands on his knees. At first he doesn’t think he’s even capable of meditating anymore, or that he’s forgotten how because all he can hear is the bustling noises of the tavern that’s right across the street. 

Itheus remembers something Guxart once told him during his training. ‘Whenever you can’t focus because everything around you is too loud, focus on the constant inside you. Let your heartbeat anchor you, let it guide you.’ He takes a deep breath and lets himself feel his heart beat rhythmically against his chest. Thud. Thud thud. The feeling soon brings the sound he was searching for.

It’s constant, but irregular as far as heartbeats go. Since he was born, Itheus has had a small skip in his heartbeat. That’s what he zeroes in on. That little imperfection that sets him apart. Everything else melts away after that. There’s no more voices, no more shouting or glasses clinking, just the drumming of Itheus’s heart. 

For the first time in years, Itheus feels the storm within himself calm. The rock stops cracking and he feels… under control.

Clarity opens his mind up and he finds himself on a different plane, somewhere between conscious and asleep. Things are different here, tinted an odd shade of purple. Everything sounds muted, like someone has shoved cotton into his ears. He’s in the tavern across the street now, sitting at a secluded table in a back corner. 

He doesn’t know why his meditation has brought him here, but it all makes sense when a voice rings out clear as day. “Yeah we had one ‘ere a few days ago. Apparently the White Wolf is headin’ for Novigrad.” A man says to whom Itheus assumes is another bar patron.

The tavern fades away and Itheus is brought back into reality, still sitting cross legged on the bed. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and flops back onto the blankets. “Novigrad.” He says to himself. “We set off in the morning after breakfast and head to Novigrad. Whichever direction that’s in.” 

Itheus gets up and treads lightly (as he always does) around the room, blowing the candles out until the only one lit is the one sitting on the oak bedside table. He peels the thin blanket and sheets back before lying down.

A bittersweet memory comes to mind as he rests comfortably under the sheets and blanket. Years ago, long before he ever knew what a Witcher was… all the way back when he was in his first school, he’d get so hot during the summer nights that he had to sleep in nothing but his small clothes. Just the thought of blankets or even a sheet would make him start to overheat. Before he had control of his magic, there were many nights where Tissaia woke him from his sleep because he had caused the entire room to be covered in ice. 

Now he rarely ever even gets on the near side of too warm. Just one of the side effects of being a mutant, he thinks. His natural body temperature is now much colder than normal humans and Witchers alike. It doesn’t really bother him, but it does make him a bit more susceptible to colder climates.

Especially after the lake incident. Itheus shudders at the memory. 

A few winters before the Trial of the Grasses, Itheus and a few of the other boys were playing around the (assumingly) frozen lake on the school grounds. They were on the ice, brandishing their training swords when one of the older boys took Itheus’s sword and threw it to the middle of the lake.

He’s always been small and slight, so acts like that weren’t unknown to Itheus. He just huffed and stalked off to retrieve his sword. By the time he heard the cracking, it was too late. 

Itheus didn’t have time to run before he fell through the ice and felt the chill start to seep into his bones. The other boys, stricken with fear and shock, ran far away from the lake. It took Guxart, several other Master Witchers, and a mage to pull Itheus from the freezing water and save him from the impending hypothermia.

Itheus shivers as the memory ends and he slips into a calm, restful sleep. His dreams that night aren’t filled with whispers of destiny or monsters, but images of those beautiful cornflower blue eyes he never could manage to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. It seems as though denying his Witcher status has led Itheus astray more than it has shed light on anything... poor boy is so lost.  
> I'd like to clarify for anyone wondering that Itheus does not know who Geralt is aside from the description he was given by that cryptic cloaked stranger.
> 
> He also still thinks about Jaskier because he's the only person to have shown him such unfiltered kindness.

**Author's Note:**

> Elder translations:  
> May marw neén ess deireádh - May death not be the end. 
> 
> Aé wish aine aen taedh - I wish light upon you.


End file.
